


Hold It Together

by jasondean



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: (just slight angst), F/F, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasondean/pseuds/jasondean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica has recovered enough from the Westerburg suicides to finally pursue a date with her long-time crush, but some special spirits of the afterlife make the task of having a good date nearly impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold It Together

                Veronica looks at herself in the slightly dirty bathroom mirror, her eyes somehow picking out even more imperfections. Since when did she have a mole right there? And is that scar on the side of her forehead really as visible as she thinks it is? She lets out a noise that is half-way between a sigh and a groan, her fingers squeezing against the edge of the counter. She feels a headache coming on, and closes her eyes tightly.

                “Nervous, are we?”

                Veronica’s eyes fly open and she leans back a bit to see the mythic bitch herself. Heather Chandler is standing to her right side, adorning her silk robe and her red ribbon tangled in her mess of day-old curls. Only when Veronica really looks at her when she speaks can she see her blue-stained tongue, a sickening reminder of the day she took down the seventeen-year-old girl with drain cleaner. Heather rests a hand on Veronica’s shoulder, but of course, she can’t feel it’s mass at all.

                “I just want to look good for her,” Veronica sighs, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand, alright? This is my first date. _Ever_.”

                “I guess serving me a wake-up cup of liquid drainer and shooting Ram and Kurt on the football field with Red Dawn didn’t count?” Heather coos, giving Veronica a sly grin in the mirror. But the other girl’s expression is unchanging, much to Heather’s displeasure. In her afterlife of haunting Veronica, she surprisingly doesn’t aim to bother Veronica as much as the others, but sometimes making her murderer’s day a little worse really hits the spot. But it’s like she’s so preoccupied she doesn’t have time to be bothered by the ghost’s sudden appearance.

                “Why are you here?” Veronica asks. “I’m already going to have a shitty night, there’s no need for you to come along,” she mutters, propping her elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her hands, avoiding Heather’s piercing gaze in the mirror.

                “What makes you think I’m trying to make your night shitty?” Heather asks in a mock-defensive voice, a smirk still playing on her lips. Even as a ghost, her smile is blindingly white…

                “Oh, I don’t know. It could probably be because of how you’ve been trying to fuck things up for me every chance you get for the past seven months,” Veronica retorts.

                “I’m not all evil, like you have yourself believe,” Heather says. “I mean, really, if anything, _you’re_ the evil one,” she adds. Veronica looks down at the counter. _As if I don’t already know that…_

“But look, Ronnie, hon,” she says, the pet name making Veronica roll her eyes with how dumb it sounds coming out of her mouth. “I don’t hate you! Yeah, you might’ve killed me and all, but I don’t hate you. You’re the most interesting thing in my life – death? – right now! Trust me, girl, I’d never do anything to hurt you,” Heather says.

                “You’re lying.”

                “Well, I can’t hurt you. Disadvantage of being a wandering spirit,” she says with a long-drawn sigh. “But look, you’re like, the only TV show on. Ever… And this is seriously the most exciting your life’s been, so I’m not letting you fuck it up.”

                “Gee, thanks, Heather.”

                “No problem,” Heather says breezily, choosing to ignore Veronica’s sarcasm. “And hey, you and Heather are my friends. Uh, were,” she corrects herself. She tends to correct her tense a lot, seemingly always forgetting she has passed. It’s been seven months since her “suicide”, yet her popularity hasn’t decreased any, much to Veronica’s displeasure. No one should be feeding a ghost’s ego this much.

                “I just want to make sure everything doesn’t go to shit,” Heather says optimistically. “Trust me, you’ll need my help with that,” she says, wrinkling her nose as her gaze scans Veronica in the mirror. “Who picked out your outfit, Veronica? God, there’s _way_ too much going on here,” she says.

                Veronica stands up straight, turning to the ghost and looking at her skeptically. “You, help me?” she repeats.

                “Mhm!”

                “How do you even expect me to trust anything that comes out of your mouth?”

                “Well, have you seen the Billy the Kid or the two dipsticks at all tonight?” she asks.

                “Uh… No,” Veronica says, confused. “What do they have to do with anything?”

                “Gag me with a spoon!” Heather exclaims. “Seriously, I thought you were smarter than that... If you can’t finish a simple game of connect-the-dots, how the hell did you get away with three murders?”

                “Just get to the point, Heather.”

                “Well, we all know what’s going on with you and Miss McNamara, obviously. From friends to lovers…” Heather says with a dreamy sigh. “Wow! What a fairytale! Well, look, I had to keep those three away. Can you imagine how much hell they would give you if it weren’t for me? Honestly, Veronica, I’m doing you a favor and you can’t even notice enough to give me some thanks?” she asks, pretending to be offended. Or, perhaps she really is offended. Veronica thinks it’s increasingly hard to tell.

                Veronica does admit to herself that she thought it was odd JD didn’t show up to start scolding her for moving on so fast, or the fact that Kurt and Ram didn’t show up to muse about how lesbian sex worked. “Alright, fine. Make me over, Queen Chandler.”

                “Oh, great, finally. First of all, change out of that weird get-up,” she says, referring to Veronica’s clothes. The girl looks down at herself, wondering how an over-sized blue-and-silver sweater over top a shirt and a blue skirt with black tights and brown boots is in bad fashion taste.

                “It’s not weird,” Veronica says, flattening out her skirt, its material almost constricting especially paired with the tights. Maybe Heather has a point.

                “Well, maybe not for someone new, but for Heather, it is. Honestly, it’s just… Weird, alright? It looks dumb. Like you’re trying to impress her, or something, without trying to show her you’re impressing her, but you kinda do it where it looks obvious that you’re trying to impress her,” Heather explains.

                “None of the words that came out of your mouth made any sense.”

                “Oh, God. Look, just change out of it, please? You’ve already got the girl. I know Heather really likes your blue blazer, so put on that. Also, that black crop top you have would look super cute under it. Oooh, also, change out your skirt for something shorter, like that one plaid one I lent you. And no tights, you do wanna get laid tonight, right?”

                Veronica’s face go a deep shade of red at the thought. “Heather, it’s the first date,” she says, trying to control the burning in her cheeks. It’s not like she didn’t consider the idea, but… No, not tonight! Did Heather really think that of her?

                “Sorry, sorry, I must’ve confused you with another girl who broke into a guy’s house to have sex with him.”

                “It’s just, I _really_ like her, Heather. It’s different.”

                Heather clears her throat, deciding to drop the topic. “Anyway, makeup seems fine…” she says, reaching out a hand that holds Veronica’s head in place. The feeling of not being able to turn her head yet not feeling any sort of pressure keeping her in place is absolutely bizarre, she decides. “I mean, your eyeshadow is a bit sad, honestly, but Heather already knows you and what you’re like, so maybe a bit more would overdue it,” Heather muses.

                Veronica rubs her neck when Heather finally lets her go. “But your hair! Oh God, Veronica, you’re so lucky to have me, you have no idea. It’s so flat! Where’s the life, Veronica? We aren’t trying to bore Heather to death!” she whines, messing with Veronica’s short hair with her elegant fingers.

                “I was getting to that,” Veronica says to defend herself, but she honestly thought her hair was fine. She attempts to tease her hair with Heather’s direction and makes soft waves in her thick mane as well. She seals the whole thing with an ungodly amount of hairspray, making Heather cough and gag.

                “Watch it. My throat’s still a little sore from the draino.”

                Veronica is about to apologize when she glances down at her swatch. “Shit, Heather’s supposed to be here to pick me up in fifteen!” she says, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

                “You don’t have anything to worry about, once I changed my outfit three times in twenty-five minutes,” Heather says with a touch of pride in her tone. Veronica sighs, not really sure that’s the type of feat she herself would want to brag about.

                Veronica makes her way back to her room and changes quickly. After she’s putting on her dark blue blazer, she realizes that Heather is no longer there, leaving her alone with Heather…

                _Speak of the devil._

Veronica makes her way to the front door when she hears a long honk. “You two have fun,” her mom says as she goes out the door. “Heather is always welcome if you girls want to play some croquet sometime after school… So is Heather! Ronnie, what ever happened to Heather? She was such a sweet—”

                “Thanks, Mom!” Veronica says through the cracked door before closing it. She makes her way to Heather’s car, opening the passenger door and slamming it shut. Even though she saw the vehicle at the night at the cemetery and many times after that event, it still surprises Veronica that Heather doesn’t have a more modern car.

                “Diner, yay!” Heather says as a greeting, her voice shaking a bit. Despite having been friends, maybe even best friends, this is obviously both very new to them. Heather’s only thing close to a boyfriend was a series of flings with football players, which didn’t even hold a candle to Veronica’s psycho ex.

                “Everyone should have breakfast for dinner,” Veronica comments as she buckles her seatbelt, feeling butterflies in her chest as she gives Heather a smile.

                “Oh!” Heather says in such a way that Veronica can imagine the lightbulb popping over her head. She leans over and gives Veronica a kiss on the cheek, leaving a stain of lipstick.   

                “…Sorry, Veronica,” she says, looking embarrassed. “It’s just, they do that in the movies, and I totally forgot I was wearing lipstick…”

                Veronica laughs. “Just get driving, dork,” she says, wiping away the lipstick.

                The two are soon at the twenty-four hour diner placing their orders. Veronica has scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon and a glass of ice water while Heather requests a waffle to go with her cola. Their waitress finishes taking down their order and walks away from their booth.

                “I still can’t believe this. How did I score a date with you?” Veronica says, shaking her head in disbelief.

                Heather tries to hide her face with her hands, her cheeks tinted with slight blush. “I’m not anything special,” she squeaks, but is unable to keep the grin off her face.

                Veronica is about to tease Heather on her embarrassment when she sees a figure appear out of seemingly nowhere in the corner of her vision. She looks to her right and her heart sinks as she recognizes the slumped figure, a half-burnt trench coat still hung over his shoulders…

                Veronica quickly directs her attention back to Heather as she launches into a story, thinking if she ignores him, he’ll go away.

                “That’s not going to work, darling,” comes JD’s rough, raspy voice, reading her thoughts. Veronica can see his hand resting on her shoulder, attempting to pull her closer like they were old chums. She wants to push him away, but she’s well aware she can’t touch him, and she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of her date.

                _Goawaygoawaygoaway,_ Veronica thinks, subconsciously tensing up. JD laughs at her growing discomfort. First, Heather Chandler was in her ear. Now JD? And all in one night!

                “Honestly, Veronica, I can’t believe it. You go from me to _her_?” he says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Downgrade much?” he jabs at her. “I can’t imagine going from sexy serial killer to having to settle with little-miss-cheerleader.”

                “And then—Uh, Veronica?”

                “Yeah, sorry! Sorry,” she says, taking a gulp of her water. Heather frowns, cocking her head to the side as if the simple gesture would give her more insight to Veronica’s thoughts.

                Their waitress comes back and sets their plates in front of them, and Heather’s eyes light up, immediately forgetting Veronica’s zoning out. “Oh my God, Veronica. Look at this waffle. It’s so beautiful,” she says, spreading butter over the pastry and then pouring maple syrup on top.

                “Mm,” Veronica says half-heartedly as she takes a quick peek at Heather’s dish, and then tries stuffing herself with scrambled eggs.

                “Damn it, woman. Don’t you get it? This isn’t how things are supposed to work!” JD says in a voice that could be compared to whining. And to think she actually fell for his charms at one point. “I was meant to be yours! We were golden, Veronica. Everything we had planned out… It was perfecto!” he says, slamming his fists on the table.

                “What was that?” Heather asks, looking around. Veronica pretends to be clueless while pouring maple syrup over her bacon and attempting to ignore JD’s rambling. She isn’t going to let her dead ex-boyfriend ruin her night.

                “I can’t do shit,” he says. “Guess that’s what happens when you blow yourself up. But hey, you’re still here! You have to take out those bastards, Veronica. Heather Duke has only gotten worse! She gives you shit every single day. You know, if I were alive—”

                “If you were alive, we wouldn’t have the chance to see some Veronica on Heather action!”

                _Oh, fuck._

Two figures have appeared on her left, both wearing red letterman jackets. It’s not the only thing that’s matching; the two both have bullet holes, one lodged in his chest, the other in his neck.

                “Punch it in!”

                Kurt and Ram do a fist bump and it takes all of Veronica’s willpower not to scream.

                “Not to be, like, insensitive, Diddley.”

                “My name’s JD,” JD says, his patience quickly running out with the new arrivals.

                “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fuckin’ dweeb!”

                “Punch it in!”

                Veronica digs her nails into the wooden table and looks down. _I can’t believe this is my life,_ she thinks. _Dead people are ruining my chances at my dream girlfriend._

“Veronica?” Heather’s sweet, concerned voice calls. “Are you alright?”

                Veronica looks up and meets Heather’s gaze. She looks genuinely worried, and Veronica is surprised to see that she actually noticed her tense demeanor. Focusing on Heather’s face, suddenly, JD, Kurt, and Ram disappear and it’s just them and the sounds of forks scraping against plates in the busy diner.

                “No,” she admits. “It’s just… I’m sorry, this is probably some deep shit to bring up on a first date, but it’s like they’re haunting me.” Heather is silent. She knows exactly the “they” Veronica talks about. It’s hard not to think about the Westerburg suicides, even if they happened so long ago.

                “I can’t get them out of my mind,” Veronica says, her voice cracking.

                “I know what you mean,” Heather says in a surprisingly calm, almost detached voice. “I miss Heather so much. She was a bitch, but she was my friend since freshman year. Kurt and Ram… They… I don’t know. I don’t…”

                “It’s fine. They tried some shit, you don’t have to feel sorry,” Veronica says in a consoling, soft voice.

                “But, it’s not their fault!” Heather says adamantly. “They were gay! For each other! They were just trying to… To fix themselves. By hurting me,” she says, her voice dipping down in volume. Seeing Heather so distraught, Veronica wants to come clean, tell her that they really weren’t gay, and she has every right to hate them.

                “And JD,” Heather says, moving on. “Lord, I can’t imagine going through that, Veronica. Can you believe it was almost _me_?”

                “I’m really glad it wasn’t,” Veronica says, reaching out a hand and letting it rest on Heather’s. She rubs the other girls palm with her thumb. “We’ll help each other.”

                Heather gives her a smile and leans in to give her a kiss, not caring who’s watching.


End file.
